


Once More With Feeling

by Processpending



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: 1x18, Ballet, Dancing, Episode Tag, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Malcolm Bright Ballet Dancer, ballet Malcolm, scheherazade - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: What if someone from Malcolm's past outs his dancing prowess to the team?
Comments: 9
Kudos: 122





	Once More With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen Episode 1x18 Scheherazade, this fic contains minor spoilers.

“You good, city boy?” Gil asks, glancing at an unusually quiet Malcolm beside him. 

“I’m fine.” The words are a distracted murmur as Malcolm scans the list of names once more, he knows it’s been years and the odds of running into someone he knew was small, someone who recognized him even smaller, but it doesn't ease the sick twisting inside him.

All too soon they arrive at the theater and Gil is giving him another measuring look, knowing there's something Malcolm isn't telling him and trying to decide how pressing it was, if it could wait until after the case when they could sit in his office with a drink and sort it out. Malcolm decides for him, throwing open his door and scrambling out, years of training have tucked away anything but his _fine_ mask. 

As Gil chastises the company for being so obvious in their maiming attempts Malcolm studies the table of tampered items, pins in tights, glass in shoes and laxatives in food, it’s good to know some things never change. He smirks at Gil’s words, moving to stand at the opposite end of the lined up performers as Gil finishes with, “Does anyone have anything to say?” The silence that follows is unsurprising. 

“I’m Malcolm Bright, I’m a profiler.” It’s his turn now and Malcolm relishes strolling between the rows, detailing how this is going to work, how he’s going to figure out who’s behind the contacts and watching for their reactions, finding solace in the routine. One of the ballerinas towards the head of the row by Gil keeps eyeing him, squinting at him as she cocks her head like she’s trying to figure something out but just as he timed it the one who doctored the contacts can no longer conceal their pain and he stops, “Gina?” 

Nothing is ever that simple, Malcolm wouldn’t enjoy it if it was, which is how Malcolm and Gil find themselves talking to Fiona, the prima ballerina who is well aware of her worth and invincibility when she names Endicott. 

o~O~o

Malcolm knows they’re on the right track when he nearly gets killed by one of the light ballasts crashing down, Gil tackling him out of the way. Gil scrambles to his feet, Malcolm a beat behind as he struggles to draw air back into his lungs when Castillo releases one of the backdrops, the heavy curtain collapsing behind him as he heads for the edge of the stage. 

Gil and Malcolm watch as his shadow plays over the falling curtain, growing larger the farther he gets, poised to follow when Dani’s voice echoes through the theater, “NYPD. Stop!” Castillo falters, tripping as he alters directions, hands smacking the floor as he uses the momentum from the fall to push himself up.

The industrial curtain rod crashes to the floor, revealing Dani and JT along with a six officers standing before the stage, Castillo frantic in his search for an escape pulls out a gun of his own but Gil wastes no breath as he draws his, clipping him in the shoulder and taking him down. 

Malcolm follows as Gil moves around the fallen curtain, Castillo down but still considered a threat until he’s in custody but Malcolm has no fear of the man, not here where fear can never show. Malcolm doesn’t notice the paramedics wheel Castillo out, or the officers who escort him to ensure he doesn’t try anything, no he’s lost to his own thoughts as he stares through the hazy stage lights into the opulent theater.

“Flee your country only to be murdered for dancing,” JT starts, climbing the stage stairs with Dani, surprise clear in his voice at the ballet turning deadly. 

“Kid?” Malcolm knows that concerned tone in Gil’s voice, the resignation that this conversation can’t last until they’re back in his off with scotch in hand. 

He’s just starting to turn, a reassurance poised when her voice rings out, “ _Et commence_.” The woman from the lineup earlier runs across the stage, her strides lengthening and toes pointing between one step and the next once Malcolm turns to her. 

Malcolm’s powerful fingers clasp her waist, the fabric of her leotard cool under his fingers as his body shifts into a familiar pose he thought long forgotten as he lifts her slight weight up. She flattens her body, her balance as good, better even, than it was all those years ago as he holds her there like she’s soaring over his head, the slightest shift in her muscles indicating she’s ready to be dropped and with a twist she’s in his arms, one had around her waist the other supporting her thigh as she balances on pointe, stretching her body out in a modified fish pose. 

“It’s good to see you again, Bella.” Malcolm says, a fondness in his tone rarely heard from him. She flashes a grin before slipping from his grip and straightens, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that somehow looks more uncomfortable for him than their intimate hold moments prior. 

“Did anyone else see that?” JT grumbles, Malcolm ducking his head as he forgot his approaching team. 

“I thought that was you.” Bella says, stepping back as she smiles up at the profiler.

“And what would you have done if you’d been wrong?” Malcolm laughs, imagining how differently that could have gone had he not caught her.

“Ah, Bright?” Gil’s looking between Malcolm and Bella, “Something you forgot to tell us?”  
“Mmm, Bright?” Bella teases and Malcolm fears what’s coming before she starts. “ _Malcolm Bright_ ,” She draws it out, rolling the _r_. “I did not know you took a stage name. It’s fitting, everyone would want to see the Bright danseur.” 

“ _You_ took ballet?” Dani’s grin is worse than JT’s smirk and Malcolm curses the commands Madame had instilled in their bones, the bark of her starting order and he was suddenly back at the barre. 

“Five years.” Malcolm waves it away as though the control it gave him, the release and solace he found in learning how his body moved, performed, didn’t help save him. 

“You showed promise, Madame was distraught when you left, _I_ was too.” Malcolm fidgets under the praise, head ducking as he tries to hide his embarrassed grin. 

“I didn’t see your name on the list?” Malcolm hates how it sounds like an accusation but Bella just smiles, one of the few who saw past his awkward front.

“Would you have avoided me if you did?” She teases and Malcolm stutters a protest but she just laughs, “I assure you I’m on there, but I’m not Mirabella _Evans_ anymore, it’s Quinn now.” 

“You got married?” Malcolm reasons but Bella just laughs again.

“Don’t look so heartbroken, we would not have worked out.” Dani tries to muffle her laugh at the appalled look on Malcolm’s face, “You were destined to do better things.” She winks at him and Malcolm eases, realizing she’s just messing with him. 

o~O~o

“I hear you’re a _danseur_.” Malcolm’s back is to Edrisa so only the team see his wince at the examiner’s words before a stiff smile is affixed. He knew that word would spread, would be surprised if it didn’t but it could’ve been so much worse, she could have _been_ there, no this was better.

“When I was a _kid_ , haven’t in years.” Malcolm waves it off, flashing a grin that he hopes will distract her enough that Gil will call her off.

“Were you a kid yesterday when you did that lift?” Edrisa grins, eyebrow raising as she eyes him. “Bet you’d look good in a leotard. _T_ _ight_.” 

“Edrisa.” Gil’s warning has her giving Malcolm one last appraising look before continuing on her way. 

“Mmmm, you told her?” Malcolm is bordering on kicked puppy look as he eyes his team.

“Showed her, JT got the recording from the theater.” Dani tries to keep the amusement from her tone as though she hadn’t watched it a dozen times since JT forwarded it to her.

“And to think I trusted you.” Malcolm sighs, but there’s no pain in it, it’s just another piece to the enigma that is Malcolm Bright: axe thrower and danseur extraordinaire. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the fastest I've ever written and published a fic, started it this morning and here I am posting it a few hours later.  
> If it's extra shabby, that is my excuse.
> 
> Comments/kudos/emojis/random outbursts always greatly appreciated and encouraged.


End file.
